


Relax

by neveralarch



Category: Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency (TV 2016)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-25
Updated: 2018-12-25
Packaged: 2019-09-26 22:14:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17150045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neveralarch/pseuds/neveralarch
Summary: Dirk gets to ride along on a Blackhawk mission. He's twelve.





	Relax

**Author's Note:**

  * For [teyla](https://archiveofourown.org/users/teyla/gifts).



> Happy Yuletide, teyla! Thanks for a great prompt.

"Hi," said Dirk.

"Nghuh," said his new best friend, who was currently facedown in a puddle in the rain by the side of the road.

"I'm Dirk." Dirk held out one black-gloved hand, beaming. "Dirk Gently. I'm a CIA agent! Sort of. I'm twelve."

"Gaaah." His friend spat out some fluid and pushed his hair back from his face. "Hnngh?"

"What's your name?" asked Dirk. "Ooh! If you can't talk, we can use number code. Agent Priest taught me. He also stabbed me, but I'm getting better at dodging. Ready? Clap once for A, twice for B, three times for C, four times for—"

"Stop," said his friend. His voice was _so rough_ , it sounded like that metal-on-metal screech when Dirk's bed had been dragged across the floor by an invisible demon. "Stop, stop, stop, stop!"

"Sorry," mumbled Dirk. "What's your name?"

"You think too much," said his friend. "There isn't room for all of that in your little head. You need to relax. Let the world happen to you."

"Is that why you were drowning in a puddle?" asked Dirk.

"No. Sort of." His friend put his thumb over one nostril and snorted some water out of the other. "I'm drunk, kid, drunk and running. Did you see that guy with the gun?"

"You mean Agent Priest?" asked Dirk. "He's behind you."

His friend managed to turn almost all the way around before Agent Priest got him with the tranquilizer dart. Then his friend fell, facedown into the puddle.

"There you are," said Agent Priest. "You can't run off like that, kid."

"But I'm helping!" Dirk waved his hands at his new friend, who was probably drowning again. "I found him!"

"You tripped over him, probably." Agent Priest pulled his friend up by his belt. "Come on, take his feet."

Dirk hurried over to pick up his friend's feet before Agent Priest started dragging him. They carried his friend over to the Blackhawk van, which was warm and dry and unfortunately would take them back to the facility, which Dirk hated. But if he was very very good and didn't fight or cry or snivel too much, the Director might let him go on work release with one of the agents again. Dirk's favorite agent was Agent Baker, who would stop the testing when Dirk got a headache and had only tried to stab him once or twice.

"What did he say to you?" asked Agent Priest. "Anything useful?"

"Yes!" Dirk beamed. "He said I needed to relax. Also that he was drunk. Also that I thought too much. Also—"

"Never mind." Agent Priest finished strapping his new friend to the back bench seat and beckoned Dirk up to the front seats, where the _cool people_ sat. "Buckle up, kid. I'm going to see if I can beat my old speeding record."

Dirk buckled up and closed his eyes. _Relax_ , he thought. _Let the world happen to you_.

It did.


End file.
